Photographs, they sing as the mellow songbirds
They speak as puppets,
Telling me only what I wish to hear
And what do I desire?
There's still a cloud over me,
While my hopes jump high
It is her photograph I can only smile at.

Who knew my fate?
Gods? Angels? Science?
The Heart, a scoundrel of renown,
He laughs at me,
When I smile at her photograph!

There lies a sadness sweet as honey
It hurts but still I am not afraid of her denail.
For I have loved her and she will Iive on
And her beauty will stay alive for years!
What worth is a picture of stillness?
When the lover has words and music!
When he has her smile and shy nods,
And that's an approval enough....